The Legacy of the Brokenhearted
by Ashabagawa
Summary: In order for a battle to be won, somebody has to lose. Twenty-three years after the events that shamed his family forever, Scorpius Malfoy meets Rose Weasley and they begin to form a tentative romance. However, family honour must be upheld. Rose/Scorpius
1. The House on the Hill

_Chapter One _

_The House on the Hill_

Tact had never been Ron Weasley's strong point and now, as he paused at the top of the flight of stone steps, desperately trying to catch his breath, he wished he'd paid more attention to his wife before going ahead with his plans.

"You'll just muck the whole thing up, you know." She had said that very morning, pulling her bushy, brown hair back into a loose ponytail. "Leave it to someone else. You'll drive us further apart..."

Now, standing in front of the ruin that used to be the Malfoy mansion, he cursed his prior flippancy and wished he'd thought up some sort of plan.

The house, standing on a barren-looking hilltop, gazed mournfully into the distance, its cracked, lead-lined windows whistling as the cool, November breeze blew through the jagged holes, as if composing its own solemn funeral march. Ivy crawled up the brickwork, knotting itself around the occasional brick that stuck out from the wall, wafting in the wind. The vast oak doors, carved with the Malfoy crest, stood slightly ajar, creaking in their rusty hinges.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed the door open and stepped into the dusty, rubble strewn hallway of the mansion.

A great, dusty dining table stretched the length of the room, most of the chairs were now missing and the few that remained were splintered and broken, the stuffing pulled out of the once ornate cushioned seats. A huge, black chandelier crouched, as if ready to attack, on the ceiling like a dead Acromantula, and Ron froze for a second before regaining his composure. Portraits lined the mouldy, wood panelled walls, all of them empty, save for one.

The portrait in question took pride of place over the mantelpiece on the eastern side of the room. Lucius Malfoy stared down at Ron Weasley from behind the frame, his grey eyes narrowed with distaste.

"You. Blood traitor." The spoken words echoed throughout the hollow hall, magnifying the malice. "Have you come to gloat?"

"No, actually." Ron stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. He stopped and looked around him. "Where is he?"

Malfoy Senior breathed deeply, straightening himself up. "Outside." He said, finally. "He rarely comes into the house anymore."

Ron glanced round at the broken objects littered around the room, privately thinking there were several reasons to not want to enter the ghostly mansion. Malfoy glared at him.

"Anything else?" He snarled.

"No." Without saying another word, Ron turned on his heel and continued his journey through the house, leaving Malfoy's portrait to stew in his own disgust.

Ron only visited the Malfoy residence once or twice since he had been on the run all those years ago, and he paused at the door leading down to the cellar, where he had been held captive while Hermione had been tortured. Any joviality he had ever felt at Malfoy's discomfort swiftly evaporated and he continued his quest quietly, his mouth set in a grim line.

Every room in the house seemed to be exactly the same: sad, mournful, unkempt and unwanted. Dust coated nearly every surface; books, lamps, curtains and chairs were all suffocated under a blanket of grey fuzz. Cobwebs adorned the corners of the rooms and Ron quickly shuffled onwards.

A thin trail of footprints in the dust ran the length of the corridor, never diverting into a room or upstairs. They continued into the vast, cold kitchens and through the back door, out into the gardens beyond.

The door leading outside was well oiled, one of the only ones in the house that seemed so, and Ron breathed deeply as he stepped out into the late Autumn sunshine, glad of the fresh air that flushed the dust out of his nose.

The garden was overgrown; wild grass had grown on either side of the muddy path up until Ron's shoulders, completely suffocating any hint of life that may have been dwindling in the borders. He followed the muddy, footprint - encrusted path through the grasses. The path seemed to be going downhill, although the grass was so long that he almost lost his bearings. Occasionally, he would spot the odd bit of wall or an old, broken fountain that would stick out from the mass of overgrown plants, a miserably reminiscing of exactly how grand the Malfoy residence had once been.

Finally, after walking for some time, he could just make out the rooftops of some run-down outhouses above the tips of the grasses; this seemed to be where the path was headed. Ron quickened his pace, now having a goal and marched through the marshy puddles.

As he drew nearer to the houses, the tall grass seemed to gradually fall away, until he found himself in a clearing, giving way to a brick cottage and a small, slightly boggy pond. A small dining chair that Ron recognised as being a member of the dining set he's seen earlier in the hall, under Lucius Malfoy's portrait, had been set up next to the pond The sun had now begun to set and he found himself shivering in the phaeic atmosphere. He crossed to the cottage and knocked on the door.

He was left standing there for a few moments and was about to knock again when the door opened. Draco Malfoy, hair now thinning and with the slight suggestion of a beard playing about his jaw, was standing holding the door open. He wore a blue knitted jumper and a pair of wellington boots; quite different to the ensemble Ron had expected.

"Weasley." He said, narrowing his eyes much in the same way the portrait of his dead father had done in the hallway of the great house standing on the hill.

"Malfoy." Ron nodded his head. "I'm here on behalf of the Ministry."

"I see." Malfoy studied him for a moment. "Where's Luton?" He said, after a moment. "It's always been Luton that's done the collection before."

"Luton was busy."

"I see." Malfoy paused before opening the door further, obviously weighing up his options. "Well you'd better come in, then."

As Malfoy turned, Ron allowed himself to breathe again; it had gone better than he had expected. He'd had visions of turning up home with all sorts of strange growths appearing on his body, courtesy of Malfoy, and Hermione having to hex them all off, one by one.

He followed into the cottage. Immediately, Malfoy moved towards a glass-fronted cabinet mounted on the wall.

"It's in here." He said, unlocking the cabinet with a key he'd retrieved from the back pocket of his trousers.

"Right."

The cottage was plainly furnished, although everything seemed clean and well looked after. The only real decorative feature seemed the photograph of a young boy on a broom, propped up on the mantelpiece. The boy looked about twelve in the picture, with fair blonde hair, ruffled from flying. As he watched the photograph, the boy fell off the broom and picked himself up again, laughing with his face full of mud.

"Your son?" He pointed towards the photograph. Malfoy half turned towards him.

"Yes." He said, his tone suddenly icy.

"He'll be in..." Ron racked his brains. "...his...fifth year?"

"Yes. He's fifteen."

"So is my daughter." Malfoy didn't reply but turned back to the cabinet. Ron frowned. The Weasleys and the Malfoys would never be friend; there was too much history. Yet, something had definitely changed over the years, an understanding had been reached and the families were not as acidic as they had been all those years ago. Hermione especially despised the hostility; she thought it stupid and immature and she was probably right, although she wasn't the one having to actually talk to the creep, though Ron bitterly.

"So..." He began again, determined to start up a conversation so that he could at least tell Hermione he'd tried. "...why down here? Why don't you live in the house? It could be a nice place if it was cleaned up."

"Memories." Malfoy answered simply, without turning round. Ron understood. God knows what actually went on during those months that You Know Who had occupied it. Malfoy's memories could scar him forever, although that didn't let him off for being a total prick.

Malfoy turned, a small wooden box clasped in his hand.

"It's in here." He set it down on the table. "I found it the other day in the house." He said, slowly opening the lid of the box. "It must have belonged to my mother." Inside the box, nestled in amongst folds of silk, was a jewellery box. It was engraved with the profiles of two snakes, coiled and ready to attack. Tiny emeralds had been inserted for eyes and they glimmered dangerously in the dusky hue of the room. Ron took the jewellery box from Malfoy and tried to prise it open.

"I've already tried." Malfoy said. "It won't open. I've used all sorts of spells and enchantments..." Ron nodded.

"Can you hear it?" Malfoy suddenly asked, his eyes large and wide.

"What?"

"Listen." Ron listened for a moment. He was just about to tell Malfoy he was talking a load of old rubbish, when he heard it. A faint, dull hissing. Parseltongue.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" He asked. Malfoy shook his head.

"I don't speak it." _Bet you'd like to. _Ron thought, before feeling a bit guilty.

"I'll have to run a few tests." He said, taking the box from Malfoy and shutting the lid. "But if they're harmless, you'll have it back before the end of the month."

"I don't want it back." Malfoy murmured.

"What?"

"I don't want it back." He said, louder this time.

"Why not?" Malfoy shrugged.

"Heirlooms don't really mean that much to me anymore." He stared at the box. "Keep it. Or give it away. It doesn't really matter to me." Ron nodded.

"Fine. I'll let you know the test results anyway."

"Thanks." Malfoy said. They were both silent for a moment, awkward as neither knew what to say.

"I'll erm...go now."

"Yes."

"I'll show myself out." Ron left the room and Malfoy heard the door shut behind him. Squelching footsteps soon started to sound quieter and quieter, as they made their way up to the house on the hill.

Malfoy turned to the mantelpiece. His son, frozen in time, smiled back at him.

**A/N – Thanks for taking the time to read the first chapter of this story. This is actually a Rose/Scorpius fic, even though you've not met them yet. You do later, don't worry. **

**I'm new to Romance as a genre and so harsh, flaming, soul-destroying criticism is welcomed with open arms. I will not be offended, unless of course you say I'm fat, which would be hard considering you can't actually see me. **

**Thanks again for reading. Reviews would be great. **

**Ellen **


	2. An Aquaintance

_Chapter Two _

_An Acquaintance _

The Gryffindor house table in the great hall was always swamped on Thursday evenings, because that was normally the only evening that James Potter didn't have Quidditch practice and was able to eat dinner with his fellow house-mates. As usual, the table was completely swamped with adoring, teenage girl fans, all determined to say something to the Captain so that they could giggle over it with their girlfriends later.

Rose Weasley, after having her Care of Magical creatures essay bombed with a whole jug full of pumpkin juice sent flying by one particularly over-excited adoring fan, was more unimpressed with her cousin's charming conduct than usual. Staying only to receive a letter from home, she hurried off to the girl's dormitory to read it. Sidestepping Professor Grundelwort (who desperately wanted her to volunteer for the annual 'Perfect Potion Competition') she climbed through the portrait hole and up the spiral staircase into the girl's dormitory. She opened the door and her heart sank.

Rebecca Weldworth and Christina Vermont were already inside, perched on one of the beds, with a whole suitcase of make-up stretched out between them.

"I think I need more of this..." Rebecca was clutching a tube of an orange looking substance, trying to catch Christina's eye for clarification. Christina however, was staring at Rose.

"Look..." She smirked, nudging Rebecca. "...it's Weasley." Rebecca turned, her face gleaming with the prospect of an opportunity to injure someone's ego.

"So it is..." She rose from the bed, make-up forgotten; she had a new toy. "Where've you been, Weasley?" She asked scornfully. "Snogging Professor Grundelwort?" Rose felt herself turn red.

"Sod off." She moved towards her bed, only Rebecca was blocking the way.

"Oooh! Not very friendly!" Rebecca turned to Christina. "What do you say, Chrissie?"

"Not friendly at all. I reckon we should teach her some manners."

"Good idea."

"I said, sod off." Rose said, her voice slightly shaky. Tears of anger and humiliation were teasing her; threatening to humiliate her further and she blinked frantically, trying to eliminate the danger.

"Language, Weasley." Rebecca suddenly lashed out and snatched the letter from Rose's hand. "From home, I imagine." She sniggered, turning the letter over in her hands. "I bet you write every day, crying to mummy. 'Oooh I have no friends! Nobody likes me!'" She whined, imitating a small child: much to the delight of Christina, who laughed loudly. Rebecca stopped sniggering abruptly and turned to face Rose again, her face set into a cold, brutal glare. "No, you're right. No one does like you, because you're a fat, ugly cow." She emphasised each word by tearing up the letter into six pieces and letting the pieces fall to the floor. When Rose made no attempt to reply, she sniggered and turned to Christina, who was still sitting, legs crossed on the bed.

"Come on, Chrissie..." She said, linking arms. "We've got a Quidditch captain to congratulate." They left, shimmying their hips as they went.

Slowly, Rose sank down onto the bed, tears running freely down her face. She made no attempt to wipe them away. The fragments of parchment lay on the floorboards, scattered like ash. She picked them up and, with a sudden ferocity, screwed them up in her hand and threw them at the wall.

She flopped back onto her bed and cried, the sobs heaving in her chest, making her starved for air. She knew she wasn't fat and surely she wasn't _that _unattractive, yet the words still cut her deeply. It wasn't a clean wound however, like a sword or an axe. Instead, it felt more like shrapnel from a shell; every time she felt she had been completely cut apart, yet there were always more shards to come.

She glanced over at the scrunched up bits of parchment lying at the foot of the opposite wall. She climbed off the bed, having finally regained her composure and peeled the thick, contorted bits of paper apart, piecing the words together. When it was finally legible, she sat back down on the bed and began to read.

_Rosie, _

_We have just received your report you enclosed from last term. I cannot tell you how proud we are of you. I copied them out and sent them to all our relatives, even Grandma and Grandpa Granger. They told me to tell you they're extremely proud to have such a clever granddaughter. Of course, they haven't a clue what any of it means, but it was a nice thought._

_Hugo hasn't been writing as much recently. I suppose he's busy with his studies. Dad keeps telling me not to worry and that he'll be busy with schoolwork and such of the like. I know he's probably right but I can't help worrying a little bit. I don't suppose you could keep an eye on him anyway, could you? _

Rose snorted. If only her mother knew exactly what Hugo was doing. Her little brother had taken to magically experimenting with pretty much anything he could lay his hands on and she had seen him emerge from the boy's dormitory on several occasions with a blackened face, hair full of soot and a slightly dazed expression on his face. She'd already given him a serious talking to and he'd assured her that nothing he did was dangerous. Although irritating and attention seeking, she didn't think that Hugo would do anything too crazy. It was just like her mum to panic, though. With a pang of homesickness, Rose imagined her mother now, hair frantically pushed behind her ear, tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration, her quill punching holes in the parchment. She'd have to tell Hugo to write to her soon, before she suffered some sort of attack.

_It's been quite cloudy up here recently. Dad hasn't had much chance to get outside. Grandpa and Grandma Weasley stayed up here the other weekend and it was nice to see them again. Victoire's managed to get a job in Cardiff in the National Portkey Offices and she's settling down well. Of course, what with Teddy's new job in the Ministry, they've not had much chance to see each other recently but I'm sure it'll all work out in the end. _

_George and Angelina are fine. How're Fred and Roxanne? We haven't seen them for ages._

_We expect to see you back at Christmas. Everyone is still debating as to whether it's The Burrow or Grimauld Place this year. Grandma obviously wants to be hostess although Harry is adamant that he repays her for all the years he's stayed with her. Personally, I think Grimauld Place is a better option, as Grandma could do with a rest. Of course, she'll end up taking it upon herself to do all the cooking. Again. _

_Dad's been staying late at the office quite a lot; I think they're working him too hard. I suggested he take some time off but he thinks I'm worrying over nothing. Apparently there's a particularly important case that's come up and he's had to do extra hours. I just hope it doesn't go on for too long. _

As Head of the Incriminating Object Removal Squad at the Ministry of Magic, Rose's Dad often had to stay behind at work to finish off a particularly dangerous or taxing case. Although not ideal, this situation was better than it had been before. Formerly an Aurour, he'd stayed away from home for long periods of time, often ranging up to a month and this had only finished when he'd retired into a desk job. Although being the Head of Department wasn't as exhilarating as being an Aurour had been, the Weasleys spent more time together and that made Mum happier.

_Anyway, good luck with this term. We love you. _

_Lots of love, _

_Mum x _

Rose smiled, although her heart felt empty and sad. She almost wished her mum wouldn't write, as that would stop these cruel flashbacks into a world where she wasn't loathed, where people didn't call her names and make foul references whenever she happened to walk past. At home she could kid herself that everything was ok, and that school wasn't hell. The flashbacks were cruel, although she didn't know how she'd go on without them.

Suddenly, the door opened. Her cousin, Lily Potter flounced in and sat at the bottom of the bed. At thirteen, Lily was most definitely her mother's daughter, with her flaming red hair and her flaming temperament.

"Where were you at dinner?" She asked, settling herself down at Rose's feet.

"I wasn't hungry." Rose sniffled. "Besides, I'd kind of have enough of the 'Potter Fan Club'."

"Tell me about it." Lily made a face. "I've had about seventy girls trying to wring facts about him out of me. He's my brother. He's vile." Rose smiled; it seemed the first time in an age.

"Are you ok?" Lily's own smile faltered. "You look like you've been crying."

"Hayfever..." Rose gestured airily with her arm, as if indicating the source. Lily didn't follow through but got the message anyway: the subject was best left alone.

"Ok." Lily stood up, stretching her arms and legs. "Hester and Jo are waiting for me so..." She trailed off, obviously feeling awkward.

"Go." Rose smiled. "Have fun. I'll see you later."

"Thanks." Lily smiled back, relieved. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Lily smiled one last time and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Rose stared at the door for some time. So maybe not _everyone_ hated her...

Reuben Desstein really needed a trowel shoving somewhere intimate. The thought flickered through Rose's head before she had time to regulate it and she snorted into her Mandrake experiment, amused at the mental image the concept offered her.

Alerted by the sound, Reuben stopped mid-flow of spouting about how he'd managed to make Hufflepuff seeker Freddy Carmichael look '...a complete airheaded idiot', and turned to stare at her.

"Something funny, Weasley?" He asked, his face twisted with scorn.

"Yes, actually." She said. "Although I don't think you'll understand. I don't speak troll."

"What?" Reuben asked, more out of honest bewilderment than any in cruel way, although extra cruelty was always received with open arms from Reuben Desstein, Slytherin Quidditch Legend.

"Nothing..." Rose answered, smugly patting down the compost around her mandrake. She glanced up again, just in time to see Rebecca Weldworth mouth something to Christina. They both sniggered.

"Everyone stop a minute!" Professor Longbottom, or as Rose knew him, Neville, was standing at the top end of the greenhouse, holding a fully grown mandrake and looking like he was increasingly regretting exactly how practical he had made this lesson. "Now, we've already had one near accident and I'd be very grateful if we all did our utmost to avoid anything like that happening again..." He shot a significant look in the direction of Ana Iverson, who turned scarlet and hastily tried to hide the broken bits of plant pot she was holding. "Now..." Neville continued. "You'll have studied mandrakes in your second year. I know that's a long time ago so don't go panicking about remembering everything from then. We're going to be studying them in a lot more detail. Pull out your textbooks and turn to page eighty-four..."

The class obliged and a faint murmur rippled across the class as students reached into their bags and pulled out textbooks. Rose reached down under the table to find that her bag had somehow disappeared. Suspecting that this was another one of Rebecca's jokes, she pulled herself back up and was about to ask Molly Barton if she could borrow hers, when a voice made her jump.

"Excuse me...I seem to have picked up your bag by accident..." She turned.

Standing behind her was an exceptionally tall, lanky boy with untidy white-blonde hair and a long, slightly crooked nose. He was very pale, almost translucent and the green trim around the outside of his robes proclaimed him as a Slytherin. He was holding her bag. Rose recognised him as Scorpius Malfoy, the boy her father had pointed out to her five years ago at Platform 9 ¾. He had always been a quiet member of the classes they'd taken together. After the initial interest of their fathers once knowing each other, he'd slowly sunk to the back of her mind, forgotten due to the more pressing matters she'd had to deal with such as exams and homework. She'd never had an actual conversation with him before and she accepted her bag off him with an uneasy smile.

"Thanks."

"It's ok." He seemed to study her for a moment, assessing her from somewhere behind his grey eyes. "Do you mind if we're partners?" He asked, resting a hand on the work bench. "It's just...everyone else on my table is already taken." He gestured over to where a gaggle of Slytherins were all flicking through textbooks and doodling on bits of parchment.

"Yeah," Rose smiled, slightly bemused. "That's fine."

"Great." He smiled shyly, before dragging a stool from another bench over to the table. Rose stared at him for a moment. He was alright, this Scorpius bloke. At least, he hadn't tried to humiliate her yet.

He sat down next to her, pulling out his own textbook.

"Right..." He murmured, leafing through the pages. Rose couldn't help noticing that, although long and slightly crooked, his nose was actually quite nice and seemed to shape his face well. He scratched the bridge of it with a long, pale, slim finger and she quickly turned back to her book, desperately trying to be less of a freak than usual.

"So..." He began, having found the right page. "Mandrakes...remember anything?"

"Erm..." Frantically, Rose cast her mind back three years. "The screaming is extremely dangerous. Normally, we'd have to be wearing earmuffs, or at least some sort of hearing protection but – "

"Then why aren't we?" Scorpius suddenly looked terrified. Rose smiled smugly.

"Because of this..." She dragged the nearest mandrake pot closer and grasped hold of the leaves, heaving it out of the compost with a yank. Scorpius winced ready for the deafening shrieks.

They never came. The balding, exceedingly ugly, baby-like root from which the mandrake leaves sprouted, had been crudely gagged with a spotty scarf. The mandrake strained against it, its little jaw opening and closing, although no sound could be heard from it.

"Professor Longbottom performed a silencing charm on them earlier, anyway. I think he just put the gag on because it gave him some sort of warped satisfaction..." She trailed off, as Scorpius was still staring, slack jawed in disgusted awe at the ugly little creature dangling from her arm. "Really, Scorpius..." She said. "...you ought to pay more attention in class..."

"It's Malfoy." He replied, having recovered a little.

"Malfoy?" Rose asked, dumping the extremely annoyed mandrake back into the pot. "You go by your surname?"

"So would you if your Dad called you Scorpius." Rose smiled.

"Maybe..." She said. "...maybe...although that would be weird; I'm a girl."

Malfoy walked with her to Transfiguration. Rose couldn't help but wonder why. After all, there was no shortage of Slytherins, all laughing at each other for no apparent reason.

"Why did you take Transfiguration?" He asked, as they walked across the grounds, back towards the castle.

"It's useful." Rose panted, as she tried to keep up with the length of Malfoy's strides; his legs were annoyingly long. "You?"

"Same, really." He looked away, towards the Slytherins. They continued a little way in silence, only broken with Rose's heavy breathing and the slushing sound of their feet on the dewy grass.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Rose said, as they reached the stone steps leading up to the courtyard. Malfoy shrugged.

"I dunno." He looked down at her, squinting in the sun. She smiled.

The veranda running around the edge of the courtyard was shady and, although the sun was not particularly warm, it was refreshing to be out of its clutches. As they walked up to the huge, oak doors, Rose noticed Professor Grundelwort giving one third year a severe talking to. As they neared, Rose noticed with a jolt that the third year was Hugo and that bits of ash were falling in clumps from his hair.

"Hang on..." Rose murmured to Malfoy. She marched over towards them, her feet ringing out on the cobbles. Hugo looked up from his shabby looking and worryingly burned shoes, just in time to see his sister marching towards him, a terrifying look on her face.

In her wake, a lanky, slightly weedy looking boy with white-blonde hair drifted behind her awkwardly; obviously unsure as to whether he should stay or leave without her. Something about him was vaguely familiar, although Hugo had no more time to speculate, as Rose had arrived next to him, and was shooting him an icy glare.

"Any problems, Professor?" Grundelwort turned.

"Ah. Miss Weasley. I have just extracted young Hugo here from Professor Longbottom's Freshwater Plimpy pond. I believe he was trying to take a few and we all know how fond Professor Longbottom is of his Plimpies."

"I wasn't trying to take any." Hugo protested. "I just wanted to sketch one for my Herbology homework..."

"Which I suppose is why you brought these instruments with you, then?" Grundelwort raised a considerably hairy eyebrow and held up a bell jar and a small fishing net. Hugo didn't say anything. "Detention, Mr Weasley." Grundelwort said, not without a hint of satisfaction. "Tuesday after school. My office." He turned on his heel and left, the instruments tucked into his robes.

"What were you doing?" Rose asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing."

"Freshwater Plimpies aren't even on the Third Year Herbology Syllabus so I really don't think – "

"Shut up." Hugo grabbed his bag off the floor.

"Alright..." Rose said slowly, frowning at him. "You know Mum's really worried about you, don't you? You should write to her. While you're winging it, I'm getting an earful."

"Fine." Hugo replied, shortly. Rose looked him up and down.

"Are you alright, Hugo?"

"I'm fine. See you later..." He marched off up the stone steps and the huge oak door slammed shut behind him.

Rose frowned after him.

"Your brother?" Malfoy asked.

"Unfortunately." Rose turned and smiled grimly. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's ok."

They climbed the stairs together, both occasionally sneaking looks at the other, wondering what exactly it was that was making the other stay.

**A/N – I've managed to update in what must be record time for me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Any reviews would be great. **

**Thanks, **

**Ellen **


	3. Herb

_Chapter Three _

_Herb_

Over the course of the next few weeks, Scorpius Malfoy sat next to Rose Weasley a grand total of seventeen times. It became a sort of unspoken agreement that Rose would place her bag on the seat next to her, saving it for Malfoy to sit in, whenever he arrived.

She had always assumed he'd had other friends, but now she took care to actually look for them, she realised he was probably just as lonely as she was. The Slytherins he'd always looked a part of were actually nothing to do with him at all, she realised, and he only ever strategically placed himself close to them and never actually spoke with them, instead pulling out a book to read, or an unfinished essay to complete. He'd been camouflaging himself in, and it had worked.

The periods of time they spent together were usually in silence, although it was not an uncomfortable one. Both felt happier not speaking and simply enjoying the fact they'd been sought out. Conversations were limited to either the topic they were working on in that particular lesson, or else the weather, normally ending almost as soon as they had begun. Rose sometimes wished they talked more, although she didn't really know what they would talk about. Scorpius was so quiet; he never really gave much away.

During Potions, one particularly wintery afternoon, as November faded into December, Malfoy decided to start up a conversation.

"So your parents work in the Ministry?" He asked suddenly, grinding his dried Wrackburst roots with his pestle and mortar. Shocked, but pleasantly so, Rose looked up, but Malfoy gave no sign of having spoken; his brow was furrowed with concentration as dried powder flicked out of his mortar and onto the workbench.

"Yes." She said, turning back to her own potion. "My dad used to be an Aurour, but then he got a job as the Head of Incriminating Objects. He gets frustrated sometimes, what with all the paperwork and stuff, but it means he's home more. Which is good." She sprinkled some of her own neatly-ground Wrackburst roots into the cauldron, which turned a pleasant, grassy green.

"And your mum?"

"She used to be an Aurour too, although she now works for the Magical Creatures' Rights Infringement Protection Squad. MCRIPS or McRips as my Dad calls it. Mum stopped being an Aurour when me and my brother were born. What about you?"

"My Dad works in the Ministry too. Although, not that much recently..." He trailed off, stirring his potion, which had turned a yellowy, sickening-looking green." Getting the feeling she wasn't going to hear much more about his Dad, Rose looked down into Scorpius' cauldron.

"Hang on." Gently, she removed the ladle from his grasp and stirred the mixture three times in the opposite direction. "You've added too many powdered roots..." She cut off a hunk of minced rat liver and hastily threw it into the cauldron, wiping her hands on her apron. A faint hiss issued from the potion and it slowly turned into the same, grassy green colour that Rose's own potion boasted.

"Thanks." Malfoy sniffed the potion and crossed his eyes. "Yuck." Rose snorted and coloured immediately. Malfoy, slightly taken aback smiled too, although was rescued from having to say anything by Professor Slughorn.

Now extremely old and hairy, Slughorn was one of the oldest Professors at Hogwarts, along with Headmistress Professor McGonagall. Rose wasn't quite sure how she felt about him, especially once she discovered that he'd taught both her parents.

"These all seem to be coming along very well...normally I have at least one person whose potion looks like snot..." Malfoy blushed a deep red and desperately tried to occupy himself with reading through the instructions again. Rose stifled a smile and poured her potion into a small glass vial.

"What're you doing?"

It was breakfast next morning and Rose was sitting at the Gryffindor house table with Albus and Lily. It was Albus that had spoken, indicating the piece of parchment she'd been scribbling away on.

"Writing home."

"Don't you normally do that in the evenings?"

"Yes."

"You mean..." Albus gasped theatrically. "Rose Weasley did something out of _routine?" _He pretended to faint and Lily laughed.

"I was busy, that's all." Rose replied, not amused.

"Busy doing what?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business!" Malfoy had asked her to help him with his homework last night in the Library, although she was hardly going to admit that to Albus.

"Oho!" Albus exclaimed. "Not very friendly! Could this 'business' have anything to do with ..._a boy?" _

Much to her horror, Rose felt herself go red. Before she could say anything, Lily had ambushed her.

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed. "What's his name? Who is he? What's he like? Is he cute? I bet he's cute..."

"Lily!" Rose said, frantically trying to swallow the bit of toast she'd stupidly decided to try to eat. "There is no boy!"

"Erm...yes there is, Rosie!" To her surprise, James leaned across the table, accompanied by the latest of his girlfriends. Rose frowned. "I keep seeing you around school looking very friendly with a Mr Scorpius Malfoy from The Land of the Green..." He jerked his head over towards the green-clad Slytherin table, where Malfoy was sitting facing the Gryffindors, flicking through a black, leather bound book.

"Oho!" Albus clapped, triumphant. "We have a name."

"He IS cute..."

"No!" Rose was now bright scarlet. "We're just friends..."

"A Slytherin, Rosie?" Albus asked, ignoring her. "Really!"

"He's nice and anyway it doesn't matter. We're. Just. Friends."

"Methinks thou doth protest too much..." Lily chipped in. Rose glared at James.

"This is all your fault..." She growled.

"Just keeping it real, Ro'."

Fuming, Rose grabbed her letter and left the table, leaving her cousins to gossip happily without her. Finally, she thought, she'd found someone that actually liked her and now those _idiots _were going to ruin it by telling everyone she fancied him. Which she didn't. At all. Even if he did have a nice nose.

She reached the common room, still in a bubble of anger, and sat down at a coffee table in the corner. It was Saturday, which meant she could spend all day writing home, if she wanted. She wouldn't though; she'd arranged to meet Scorpius in the walled gardens for a walk later on.

Suddenly, her stomach lurched. How exactly was she going to communicate her new, timid friendship in a letter to her parents? He was too big a part in her life to simply leave it out, and yet she had no idea how to put it across in words. She would have to address the subject carefully, make sure there was no misunderstanding. She couldn't help wondering how her father would react to the news; his introduction had been rather ominous all those years ago, yet she was sure that any prejudices he may have had against the Malfoy family would surely become inconsequential once he realised how nice Scorpius was.

Although, now she thought about it, she wasn't sure 'nice' was the right word to describe him. He didn't seem mean and she'd never heard him say anything bad about anyone, yet there was a sort of underlying sense that he was always thinking, always working people out. The constant scrutiny sometimes worried her and made her anxious; it was as if he was assessing her, wondering whether he should stick around any longer.

To Rose, it was most important that he should stick around. The last few weeks had gone in a blur, quite different to the usually long, dragged out term that school tended to become. All of that was because someone was sitting next to her, talking to her. It might not even have been that. Maybe it was just the fact that he, for some unknown reason, didn't seem to hate her, and Rose was going to make the most of that while it lasted.

Although, if she was entirely truthful with herself, she desperately hoped it wasn't just the fact that he didn't hate her that brought them together. She liked him, a great deal. She wasn't entirely sure why. He was odd, sometimes annoyingly obtuse and had perilous mood swings: one minute he was a talker, the next he was almost a mute. Also, he was incredibly timid and she wished he'd stick his neck out more, stand up for himself. Yet, there was something about him that she found herself attracted to. He seemed genuine and clever: traits she'd been taught never to take for granted, and she couldn't deny the fact that he was good looking. Not classically so: he was too skinny for that. He had quite a long, pointed face that his nose and clear blue eyes complimented well. His hair was strange, yet she liked it; the bright blonde meant she cold spot him easily in a crowd. Now she thought about it carefully, she realised she did like him. She imagined seeing him with another girl and her heart roared, infuriated at the prospect. She liked him, although was not about to put the relationship at stake by pressing for things that may never come; she was lucky as she was.

Rose blushed. She'd never truly liked anyone before, not properly anyway, and she wasn't sure how to deal with this revelation. How would she act around him? She'd have to be as normal as possible, until she got used to the new feelings now stirring within her.

Sighing dramatically, she smoothed the parchment down on the desk and began to write.

_Dear Mum and Dad, _

_Don't worry about Hugo. He's fine. I'll tell him to write more although he is busy with schoolwork and stuff. _

_Give Victorie my congratulations. I'm sure Teddy will be ok. He always is. _

Right. Now it was time to drop the bombshell.

_I've made friends with a boy from my class. He's a Slytherin, although I'm not sure why. He's really nice. His name's Scorpius Malfoy. He's really shy and doesn't talk a lot, but he's really clever. I'm sure you'd like him. I was thinking of inviting him up during the Christmas holidays. Would that be ok?_

There. The deed was done. What would the response be like? Rose found herself rushing the ending, garbling out a hasty goodbye before sitting back in her chair and re-reading the letter. It wasn't perfect but it would have to do; she couldn't think of any other way of writing it.

She stuffed the parchment into an envelope, grabbed her coat and hurried off to the owlery.

It was quite a long walk, yet she enjoyed it. The greyish, slightly foggy atmosphere seemed to wash out her brain and she found herself able to focus on things better when she was outside. She crossed the courtyard, birds whistling into the breeze, and started to descend the stone steps that ran down the side of the castle into the owlery.

Below her, the valley stretched out into a vast carpet of evergreen, with occasional eruptions of birds issuing from the green mass of trees beneath her. Mist enveloped the mountains, casting an eerie impression of their summits, and Rose found herself wondering what their peaks really looked like; she'd never seen the mountains when they weren't blanketed in mist. Perhaps her ogling of the mountains was the reason she walked straight into the person standing on the bottom step, also gazing out into the valley.

She smacked into the hard barrier of a shirt - clad chest and rebounded, accompanied with a muddle of apologies.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was... Malfoy?"

Scorpius Malfoy smiled down at her.

"Hello." He grinned. Rose suddenly felt a bit hot. He sobered at once. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, fine. It was my fault; I wasn't looking where I was going..."

"No, you weren't." He grinned again and Rose couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be something different about him. He seemed happier, freer than usual. Rose smiled back, unable to help herself. A long, thin sports bag lay at him feet, stretched into an odd shape. His hair was untidy, ruffled from the fresh air and his cheeks were flushed. He seemed to be wearing very little; a t-shirt and jeans seemed inadequate protection against the cool, late autumn breeze and Rose pulled her coat tighter around her body.

"Are you not cold?"

"No. I've been for a run." A run? Jeans weren't much good for running in. She was about to question him further, when he spoke.

"The view's good isn't it? I've never been able to see this far before..."

As he turned his head back to the mountains, in the process of making a flippant comment about the weather, Rose noticed a smudge of mud on his cheek, near his earlobe. Without thinking, she reached up and wiped it off his pale skin. He stopped mid-sentence. He turned to look at her, his face suddenly pink.

"You had a bit of mud..." Rose trailed off, feeling herself redden also and held up her finger as evidence.

"Oh." Scorpius smiled nervously. "Thanks."

They fell into an awkward silence. Rose marvelled at how soft his cheek had been. Subconsciously, she rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, trying to recreate the texture.

"What's in the bag?" She asked suddenly, hastily trying to change the subject. Unfortunately, this seemed the wrong thing to say.

Malfoy turned even redder than he had before, running a hand through his pale, blond hair.

"Oh..er..." He stalled. "...running...equipment..."

"Oh." No matter how clever, funny or nice he may have been, Malfoy couldn't lie. "Do you enjoy running?"

"Yeah...I do..." Malfoy squirmed. Rose relented; he was obviously uncomfortable.

"I'm posting a letter. Want to come?"

"Yeah...do you want to borrow my owl?"

The Weasley's owl, Ernie, was already on an errand for her Dad, and wouldn't be back for some time.

"If you don't mind...that'd be great." Malfoy flashed another one of his dangerously distracting smiles and Rose's inner organs seemed to flip happily. Having recovered, Rose watched as Scorpius climbed the ladder leading up to the rows of owls and blushed, having discovered the perfect opportunity to analyse his physical attributes.

She had always thought him skinny, although she wasn't so sure now. Although, yes, he was slender, his arms showed strength as he lifted up the heavy trap door that Rose herself would have definitely needed a hand with. All in all, not an altogether unpleasant sight, quite a nice one in fact. A very nice one.

"He's up here somewhere..." Malfoy called down, making Rose jump and bringing her out of her less-than-owl-focused daydream. Scorpius was walking along the gangplank at the very top of the tower, his feet making the beams and rafters creak.

"Be careful!" She called up, knowing full well he would ignore her. Sure enough, he stumbled high above her, across the owl-excrement encrusted beams, occasionally swearing as he tripped or slid on something unpleasant.

"Found him!" He called down, after a few more minutes of searching Rose could hear the dull, slightly ruffled hooting of an annoyed owl, swiftly followed with another colourful exclamation.

"Shit!" She heard Malfoy yell. "The bastard just bit me!" Desperately trying to cover her giggling with her mitten-clad hand, Rose blushed furiously; this was the first time she'd heard him swear, or be relaxed enough to be himself. She liked it.

"Are you alright?" She called up, her voice slightly wobbly from trying to contain her laughter.

"Yeah...I'm fine." Footsteps crept across the beams far above her and soon Scorpius' feet appeared on the rungs of the ladder. As he emerged, she saw he was unceremoniously dragging a huge, dark grey owl with him, shaking his wrist whenever it gave him trouble.

"This," He said, irritably flicking his fingers as the owl pecked at his ear. "...is Herb."

Herb was one hell of a beast, that was for sure. His feathers were smooth and well-kept, each one groomed into the same direction. His eyes were large and a rich shade of amber. He stared at Rose smugly, obviously fairly pleased with his appearance.

"My God..." Rose said, looking him up and down. "...he's huge."

"He's bloody heavy too..." Malfoy wheezed, his arm pulled into a funny position.

"Oh, sorry." Rose heaved Herb off Malfoy's arm and immediately appreciated Malfoy's discomfort. It felt as though Herb ate bricks. Hastily, and with the assistance of Malfoy, she tied the letter to Herb's talon and launched him out of the window, glad to regain the feeling in her left arm. They watched him soar through the mist together, the atmosphere suddenly slightly awkward.

"When did you get him?" Rose asked, nodding towards the slowly dissolving silhouette of the huge owl, now enveloped in the fog.

"He's older than me." Malfoy replied. "He's my dad's, really but he lends me him most of the time."

"Don't you want to send a letter home?" Scorpius' brow suddenly creased.

"Me and my dad..." He began slowly, measuring each word as it came out of his mouth. "...we don't really get on..."

"Oh..." Rose took the hint and was surprised when Malfoy continued.

"My mum died four years ago... since then, Dad's been really...well, he doesn't really want much to do with me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I think he blames me..."

"Why would he blame you?"

"It's a long story..." Suddenly, Malfoy's eyes began to look a little dewy and tearful. While Rose desperately didn't want to cause him pain, she wanted to know the rest. In the end she decided not to press; it wasn't worth losing Malfoy's friendship over.

"He's ashamed too." Malfoy continued and Rose was relieved to see that the threat of tears had gone. "The Malfoys aren't very nice people, Rose." He trailed off.

"What do you mean 'The Malfoys aren't very nice people'..." She asked, frowning.

"My family...we're...they've done bad things, Rose. People don't tend to like us. We're too closely connected with Dark Magic. Nowadays, people are either scared of us or they hate us. Either way, they tend to keep a wide birth..."

"But...you haven't done anything!"

"That doesn't matter." Scorpius stopped and looked at her. Rose's stomach flipped as his grey eyes settled on hers. "People don't care."

"That's not fair."

"Tell me about it." They were quiet for a moment, staring out into the mist. Suddenly, Rose took Malfoy's hand from the windowsill and held it in her own gloved palm. He looked at her, surprised.

"I care." She said quietly and smiled before turning back to the window. His hand remained in her gloved grip.

He didn't move it.

**A/N – Thanks to everyone that left a review! It's great to hear your comments, even if they're negative. Like I said, I'm new to romance so if I'm completely crap at it, let me know. **

**I'm not sure if I like this chapter but I've posted it anyway. I think their relationship might have moved too fast... Anyway, I hope you liked it. **

**Thanks for reviewing, reviews would be great. **

**Ellen**


	4. The Blood From the End

_Chapter Four_

_The Blood From the End_

Hermione Weasley woke to the sound of thudding. Her brown eyes blinked blearily in the dark and the bulk of quilt and blanket in the bed next to her snored loudly. Something thudded again and she pulled the covers back to expose her husband asleep with his mouth open, dressed in old fashioned stripy pyjamas with his greying red hair flopping over one eye. He was obviously not the culprit. She pulled the covers back over his sleeping form and he continued to snore, obviously unperturbed by his recent exposure.

Slowly, Hermione reached for her wand. Her hand scrabbled on the bedside cabinet, brushing the waving family photograph, the biography of Celestina Warbeck, the box of tissues and finally the wand, although not before knocking a glass of stagnant water onto the carpet.

Hermione held her breath. If it was a burglar, they could have quite easily have heard the muffled thud. The silence, broken only by Ron's continued snores, seemed to stretch out forever until finally the other kind of thudding, the thudding that had woken her up, resumed.

Carefully, she lifted her feet out of bed and snuggled them into her fluffy slippers, carefully avoiding the wet patch on the carpet. She picked the glass up and put it back on the bedside cabinet.

"_Lumos_" She hissed and her wand illuminated, casting an eerie light over the bedroom. Ron stirred and grunted.

"Put that bloody light out, woman!" He exclaimed, before being hushed by an indignant Hermione. "What?" He whispered grumpily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That _noise_?" They were silent for a minute. There was no thudding.

"What noise?"

"The thudding. There!" _Thud. Thud. Thud. _Slowly, Hermione moved towards the door of the bedroom and peeked out onto the landing.

"You're going mad, Hermione." Ron mumbled after her. "It'll just be a tree or something."

Hermione was not easily convinced. She crept out onto the landing and sneaked past the doors to Hugo and Rose's rooms before slowly descending the stairs. More family photographs were illuminated as the light from her wand passed them and the occupants all waved at her from their various poses. The largest one and the one that seemed to have been given pride of place on the stairway wall had been taken in the kitchen at the Burrow and the whole of the Weasley family were all seated around a huge Christmas dinner. The Potters and the Grangers also occupied the long wooden table and, as everyone dug into Mrs Weasley's turkey, they all waved at Hermione as she passed them. She shushed them with a finger to her lips and they all obliged, glaring at each other whenever they scraped their knives or forks too loudly on their plates.

Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs and stealthily crept into the living room. It was then that she got the fright of her life.

Clawing at the living room window, staring at her with huge amber eyes, was quite possible the biggest owl Hermione had ever seen. She shrieked and her wand fell to the floor with a clatter. After regaining her composure and realising that, while huge and scary looking, it was just an owl, she moved over to the window and unlatched it tentatively. The owl launched itself into the room, landed on the coffee table and extended its leg to expose its letter, almost removing Hermione's left hand in the process. Luckily, Hermione had good reflexes and managed to get her hand out of the way before it was lacerated by one of the owl's deadly talons.

"What in the name of Merlin's left ..." Ron had appeared in the doorway, although had stopped full-flow when he'd seen the beastly bird, now busying itself with ripping up one of the magazines on the coffee table.

"Oi!" Hermione removed the magazine from the owl's beak and swatted it on the head with it. "Stop it."

Ron moved towards the bird and untied the letter from its leg.

"Who could this be from?" He asked. Hermione shrugged.

"Who would send an owl at this time in the morning?" She replied. Ron unfolded the letter and spread it out on the table before them. The owl chirped noisily.

"I've not finished with you..." Ron said, pointing at it threateningly as Hermione read over his shoulder.

"It's from Rose!" She exclaimed. "Why would she..._ah_..." She gulped and waited for Ron to reach the line in question. She would know when he did.

Sure enough, Hermione felt Ron suddenly stiffen.

"Malfoy?" He said, in a dangerously low voice, a voice that Hermione knew meant she was treading on thin ice. "Is she out of her mind?"

"No." Hermione said soothingly. "She doesn't know anything about the Malfoys, remember?" She glanced back at the letter. "I'm sure this..._Scorpius_...is a very nice boy..." Ron snorted, although it was a snort without humour.

"He's a Malfoy, Hermione. A _Malfoy_. Of course he's not going to be nice."

"Well I'm just glad she has _someone._" Hermione said, suddenly. "We've both been worried about Rose for years and now she has a friend..." She stopped and scooped up the letter from the table. "I think we should be happy for her..."

"But she wants to invite him for Christmas!"

"This isn't about you, Ron. This is about Rose. We don't even know this boy. I'm sure he's nice. Rose isn't stupid; she wouldn't make friends with someone awful..."

"She's never made friends with _anyone_ before!" Ron yelled. "Maybe she's got social problems!"

"Ron!"

"Well maybe she has! We've both been worried about it – like you said. Don't you think it's a bit weird that after all these years she chooses a _Malfoy_ to be friends with. Don't you think that's just a bit odd?"

"Ron, Rose is our daughter and we should be happy for her."

"I know..." Ron's voice was calmer now. "...and I would be, Hermione, you know that. Just...a _Malfoy_?" He shook his head. "I just don't want Rose to get hurt."

"I know." Hermione smiled back fondly. "But she has to make her own mistakes. We can't protect her all the time." Ron frowned. "What?"

"It's just...at the office..." Ron began. "...this case with Malfoy heirlooms..."

"I thought you couldn't find anything. I thought it was just a jewellery box. Luton said he's never detected anything out of the ordinary before."

"I know...but still." Ron shook his head again. "There's something not right about it. This jewellery box, it's got Parseltongue properties. I meant to get Harry to check them but I've not had the chance."

"Ron."

"Yeah?"

"These things haven't got anything to do with this boy. Rose likes him and we should make an effort. I'll invite him for Christmas. _Don't make that face_. If it makes Rose happy, it's worth it."

"Alright." Ron scowled for a moment. "I'm tired. I'm going back to bed."

"Okay. I'll come up in a minute. I'll just put this owl with Ernie. I hope he doesn't kill him."

"Yeah." Ron smiled. "Love you."

"Love you too. Goodnight."

"'Night."

Rose read the sentence again. She'd read the same sentence roughly five times. She was normally a good reader, a trait she'd inherited from her mother, but today was different. Today she was distracted.

The distraction came in the form of Scorpius Malfoy, who was occupying the bench opposite her. His blond, almost white hair was messy from when he'd been running his hands through it and it had managed to stay in that position, some strands now sticking up almost ninety degrees from his head. It fell over his eyes, the grey eyes that were staring at the page with so much concentration that she was surprised the book didn't catch fire. He stirred and yawned, bringing his arms about his head. Rose panicked and turned back to her book quickly, her face flushing as she did so. She stared at the sentence again, feeling his eyes drilling holes into her scalp as she refused to meet his gaze. Finally, thinking the coast clear, she looked up. It wasn't.

Scorpius was still staring at her. His gaze was strong, intent and he searched her face, as if looking for something. Rose found herself turning red, her heartbeat quickening. His eyes seemed to be staring at her lips. Did she have a spot on her chin? Was that what he was looking at? Shakily, she touched her chin with shaking fingers. She felt no tell tale bump, there was no blemish. Why was he staring at her lips?

Slowly, Scorpius leant forward, keeping his gaze locked on Rose's. He tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face before stroking her cheek. He glanced back down at her lips again, their faces mere inches apart...

"Rose!"

Scorpius' hand suddenly flashed back onto the table. Rose jerked her gaze away from him and turned to find Albus brandishing a roll of parchment in his left hand. He bopped her on the head with it.

"How're we doing, Rosie?" He winked, jerking his head over to where Scorpius was watching him, smiling in confusion. Rose cleared her throat.

"Albus, this is my...friend, Scorpius. Scorpius, this is my highly irritating cousin, Albus." The two boys nodded at each other, Albus grinning smugly.

"This is for you..." Albus handed her the parchment. "...It's from Professor Grundelwort. You missed him, you were that..._busy_..." With another grin and a wink, Albus disappeared behind a bookshelf, no doubt in search of another cousin to annoy.

Rose glanced down at the parchment in her hands.

"Oh God..." She moaned. Malfoy looked up.

"What?" Rose sighed.

"Grudelwort's been on at me for weeks, desperately trying to get me to go to this potions thing...I reckon that's what this must be about...It says to see him as soon as possible..." She smiled apologetically at Malfoy. "Sorry; I'd better go."

"It's ok..." Malfoy smiled back. "I've got to do this." He gestured towards the unfinished essay. "If I bat my eyelashes enough, do you think Madam Pince would help me out?" Rose snorted as she loaded her things into her bag.

"Nah...I reckon there's something going on between her and Filtch..."

"My God...It's a sad, sad day when you're refused over Argus Filtch." Scorpius shook his head and Rose sniggered before reluctantly leaving the library.

She found Grundelwort in his office in the dungeons, drinking a glass of brandy and dozing off to the old wireless balanced on a stack of books.

"You asked to see me, Professor?" She said, inching further into the cluttered room. Grundelwort woke with a start.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Miss Weasley!" He hastily pulled himself to his feet. "Yes...I wanted to talk to you..." He moved over to his desk and started leafing through the papers scattered there. "Aha!" He looked back up at her, brandishing a copy of The Quibbler in his hands.

"The Quibber?" She asked, sceptically. Her godmother, Luna Lovegood was the now the senior editor of the magazine and, if Luna's own sanity was anything to go by, the magazine's articles would not be gospel.

"I know, I know..." Grundelwort said, flicking through the pages. "...but before you get all funny on me, Miss, read this..." He handed her the magazine open on a double page spread. One whole page was devoted to a photograph depicting a smiling, dark haired woman waving smugly and blinking behind her cat-eye glasses. She was dressed in what seemed to be only a bundle of embroidered scarves that wafted around the page as she moved her arms and made her appear mysterious and goddess-like. The caption read, '..._opposite: Hester in her element_.' The opposite page was completely covered in writing.

'_Janquool Launches Youth Scheme_...' boasted the title. Casting a wary eye over to Grundelwort, who was watching eagerly as Rose read, she continued to skim the text. '_Hester Janquool, 42, Order of Merlin Third Class and renowned potion mistress and researcher for St Mungo's Hospital, has launched a new competition for gifted potion students. _

"_It's a great idea..." says Janquool from the comfort of her Herefordshire home. "It'll really inspire kids to take potions seriously, to learn more about the subject.'_

_Janquool is certainly pulling out the stops with this one. A two-day residential course running from the 3__rd__ of January to the 4__th__, the students will battle against each other in various rounds until one is declared a winner. Although an opportunity not to be missed, there are only twenty places available on the course. _

"_There's only one of me!" laughs Janquool. "By restricting the numbers, we've made the course more worthwhile. It's a shame we can only accept twenty people but I have got a very busy year ahead of me. I wish all applicants the very best of luck and hope to see them in January."_

_All in all this seems like a fantastic opportunity for any potential potion masters/ mistresses. Applications can be made by simply answering the following question: _

_What is the name of the lead singer of the Wizarding Rock Band 'The Humming Hydra'?_

_Gurt 'The Brain' Windleworm_

_Thoma Sparksteen_

_Herbert Pringlebottom_

_Please send all applications by owl post to: 15 Hackney Court, Merrleby, Herefordshire.'_

The rest of the page had been devoted to displaying all of Hester Janquool's various awards.

"You want me to go on this..._thing_, don't you?" Rose said.

"Well yes. I do. I think it would be a fantastic opportunity, and you're by far the best potions student in the year..." Rose glanced back down at the article, back down at Hester Janquool's gleaming face.

"I'll have to speak to my mum..."

Harry Potter twiddled his wand lazily between his fingers, occasionally making little sparks emit from the end, purely for his own amusement. Work behind a desk was worthwhile, if boring and he often found himself caught up in memories of the old days, when he, Ginny, Hermione and Ron had all worked together, out in the action. Things had changed now, though. They all had children for one, and if that wasn't a hearty dose of action, Harry didn't know what was.

The office door burst open, wafting the _Weird Sisters_ poster on the wall to the floor. Ron marched in, before hanging his cloak on the back of the door.

"Do you know how many bloody times I've told Hester about those memos?" He exclaimed, obviously in full flow. Harry smiled knowingly.

"How many times?" He asked, throwing his wand up in the air and catching it with one hand.

"Dunno." Ron flopped down behind his desk. "About fifty."

The office that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley shared at the Ministry of Magic was not particularly big, yet it held all sorts of precious, sentimental objects and neither of them would have traded it for a larger one. The bookshelves were crammed with obscure, spindly objects that Ron had collected while in Romania with his brother, Charlie. Harry didn't have a clue what they were for and neither did Ron, but they looked quite impressive when coupled with the leather spines of great wizarding literary volumes, supplied courtesy of Hermione, who took Ron's repulsion at the written word as a personal insult.

On top of the bookcase was a tea cosy, the same tea cosy that had once perched on the head of a house elf.

The walls were full of photograph frames, all boasting smiling, cheerful images of waving people, most of whom had flaming red hair. A few newspaper cuttings had been framed and hung on the wall too, boasting headlines such as 'POTTER/WEASLEY DUO BOAST SUCCESS AT THIRD ARRSET THIS MONTH', beneath which a smiling Harry and a slightly bemused Ron both blinked at the camera, appearing considerably less grey-haired.

In the corner of the room was a glass fronted cabinet, the contents of which was concealed behind the leaded frames of glass in the doorway, although a faint light seeped through the gap between the doors.

"Busy day?" Harry asked, as Ron stretched his arms behind his head.

"Yeah...you?

"I wish..." They were silent for a moment.

"Oh." Ron suddenly said. "I meant to tell you..."

"What?"

"We'll have an addition for Christmas."

"I know." Harry groaned. "James is bringing home another one of his dim girlfriends. I can't remember her name; the last five have been a blur..."

"No..." Ron said slowly. "Rose's bringing a guest this year too..."

"Ah." Harry said, judging by his friend's face that this was not good news. "This is your first time, right?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, thrown off guard.

"Your first son or daughter to bring home a boyfriend or girlfriend. Don't worry; I'll guide you through it, I'm a professional.

"It's not that." Ron said, agitated. "Although, don't get me started on the whole _boyfriend_ thing...wait until I tell you his name..."

"Oh yeah?"

"Scorpius Malfoy." Ron spoke as if confessing to a mortal sin. Harry's mouth opened slightly.

"Bloody hell."

"I know." They were silent for a moment.

"What're you going to do?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to break it off?"

"God no – Hermione would kill me. I don't even know what 'it' is; she says they're just friends..."

"That's what they all say..." Harry nodded significantly. Ron frowned worriedly.

"Well..." Harry said, drumming his hands on the desk. "...we've got that to look forward to. It must be , what? Four years since I saw a Malfoy..."

"I wish I could say the same." Ron mumbled. Harry looked at him. "I was there the other week – covering Luton's area..." He explained. "...I had to pick up some stuff. In fact, there's something I've been meaning to show you..." He got up and went over to where his clock was hanging on the back of the door. He dug around in one of the pockets before pulling out a small, dusty box. He crossed back over to the desk, where he opened it and displayed its contents to Harry.

"I don't think it's anything dangerous..." He said, as Harry pulled the ornate jewellery box out of its case and turned it over in his hands. "...it's muttering Parseltongue. I put a silencing charm on it though; it was driving me mad..." He pulled out his wand and muttered the counter-curse. Slowly, the hissing began again and the office was filled with the sound of serpentine noises.

"What does it say?" Ron asked. Harry looked up at him, his eyes were tired and full of an emotion Ron hadn't seen on his friend's face for a very long time: confusion.

"This is strange..." Harry muttered. "...very strange."

"What does it say?" Ron asked again, his voice rising in frustration. Harry took a deep breath.

"_The blood from the end will open me."_

Ron frowned.

"I don't get it..." He mumbled.

"That's not the worrying part." Harry said, clutching the small box. "What's worrying is the voice."

"What voice?"

"The voice of the person saying it..." He paused. "...a person I know to be dead."

"Who?"

Harry looked up at Ron, his green eyes staring into Ron's blue ones. "Astoria Malfoy."

**A/N – Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Criticism is welcomed, as always and I hope you like this chapter. What do you think of Harry and Ron? Are they in character? Let me know...**

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are great. **

**Ellen x**


	5. Treacle Tart

_Chapter Five_

_Treacle Tart_

The library seemed to be where Rose and Scorpius spent their time out of lessons. Now that November had now become December, it was too cold outside to even contemplate sitting down on a bench and, while the others all spent their time in the common rooms, Rose and Scorpius were content with the library. Common rooms had been ruled out through their being in separate houses, a fact that had been troubling Rose recently.

"Malfoy?"

"Yeah?" He finished writing his sentence before fixing his cool gaze on hers.

"You're in Slytherin."

"Yeah?" He repeated.

"Why?"

Scorpius dipped an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why did the Hat put you in Slytherin? You don't seem the type." Rose wrinkled her nose. "I mean, you don't beat anyone up..." Malfoy laughed.

"You don't have to beat people up to be a Slytherin, Rose!" He sniggered. Rose smiled.

"Then how did you get in? I'm interested."

"You really want to know?"

"YES!" Rose exclaimed.

Scorpius smiled at her exasperation before shrugging.

"I asked the Hat to put me there." He turned back to his essay. Rose however, remained frozen, staring at the top of his head as he wrote.

"What?" She asked, eventually.

"I asked the Hat to put me there."

"Why?" Rose exclaimed. Scorpius smiled.

"Obligation. Every single member of the Malfoy family tree has been a Slytherin, ever since the school was founded. It's tradition."

"It's horrible."

"And you're a lot better, I suppose?"

"What do you mean?" Rose asked, suddenly defensive.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but every Weasley has been in Gryffindor. Isn't it the same?"

"No!"

"How?"

Rose spluttered for a minute. "But Slytherins are horrible! No offense..."

"None taken." Scorpius smiled knowingly.

"You're weird." Rose said, conclusively.

"So are you. That's why we're friends."

"Probably."

They both turned back to their work, smiling secret smiles. As Rose leafed through her diary, an envelope fell out in her lap.

"I forgot!" She exclaimed. "I got a letter from home this morning!"

Malfoy smiled and turned back to his essay, although Rose still felt his eyes flicker over to her as she opened the letter from her mother.

_Rosie, _

_That owl you sent gave us both quite a fright! It woke us up in the middle of the night. He's also tried to murder Ernie a couple of times. Where did you get him from?_

"Well, they liked Herb." Rose muttered. Scorpius sniggered from the other end of the table.

_Of course your friend can come up for Christmas! The more the merrier! You'll have to warn him though; Grandma Weasley will no doubt pounce on him the moment he arrives and try to stuff as many turkey stuffing sandwiches as possible down his throat. _

"Mum's invited you up for Christmas," She said, looking over to where Scorpius was watching her. Granted, that wasn't exactly the context; Rose had asked first, but it sounded more tactful this way. Scorpius stared at her.

"Christmas?"

"Yeah." Rose stalled. "It's ok, though...if you have other plans..."

"No!" Scorpius said hurriedly. "I'd love to. It's just...I've never been asked before." He smiled shyly. "I'll have to ask my dad."

"So you'll consider it, then?"

"Yes."

"Good." They smiled at each other a moment longer. Rose dragged her eyes away from Malfoy's and turned back to the letter.

_Hugo seems to be getting better. You wouldn't mind keeping an eye on him for me would you, love? I don't want him to be on his own._

Rose groaned.

"What is it?" Malfoy said, looking up from his essay.

"Mum wants me to babysit my little brother."

"Oh." He smiled sympathetically before turning back to his work.

_Only a few weeks left until Christmas! I thought I might get Dad the new Chudley Cannon annual. It's signed so it's quite expensive. We could all chip in though – that would make it easier. _

_Love you, _

_Mum x _

Rose smiled and set the letter back on the table.

"I miss her." She said, still smiling sadly at the parchment.

"You'll see her at Christmas."

"Yeah..." Rose smiled. "...I will."

"Remind me again what happened to her." Hermione Weasley said, in between mouthfuls of curry. Ron and Hermione Weasley and Harry and Ginny Potter were all seated around the dining table in twelve Grimauld place, tucking into some of Kreacher's chicken curry. They often did this, the four of them. During term time, their houses would often seem hollow and empty without the chaos of the five children.

Harry and Ron had just finished telling their wives about the Malfoy jewellery box and the strange message inside.

"Who?" Harry asked. "Astoria Malfoy?" Hermione nodded.

"I had heard she died but I can't remember how..."

Harry swallowed. "It was Dean that was handling the case. I remember him telling me about it. The Malfoys got a lot of bad press..." He took a swig of wine from his goblet before setting it back down on the table. "There's a lake at the back of the Malfoy estate..."

Ron shuddered. He remembered it well.

"The son, Scorpius, had been swimming. Despite it being summer, the water was still freezing and he was only going to do a length, but that was time enough...he hit his head on something and ended up being knocked unconscious. Anyway, Astoria, having seen her son go under, dived into the water almost straight away. She didn't have her wand on her and so she was unprotected against the temperature. She was in there for some minutes, searching for her son. By the time Malfoy arrived on the scene, she'd found Scorpius and was lugging him back towards the shore."

"What happened?" Ginny asked. She, Ron and Hermione had all stopped eating.

"They both got out of the water. Scorpius was fine; he came round later and, because he'd had time to charm himself before he went swimming, he was otherwise ok."

"But she wasn't..." Hermione murmured.

"No." Harry said. "It later became clear that the lake was teeming with Funglefi ..."

"...a highly toxic water plant." Hermione finished. "It's deadly without adequate protection."

"She was poisoned and, coupled with hypothermia, she didn't have long left..."

"How awful..." Ginny said.

"She spent her final days in what must have been terrible pain. She died a few days after the accident." They were silent for a moment.

Suddenly Kreacher burst through the kitchen door.

"How was the curry, Master?" He asked, his squeaky voice breaking the miserable silence. "For dessert, I've made your favourite: treacle tart!"

It might have been the curry, but none of them really felt like pudding.

The next few weeks seemed to pass in a blur. This was something new to Rose, and she realised it was because she was enjoying herself. The holidays always passed quickly, but term time had always seemed to drag. Now however, she found herself laughing and smiling almost constantly, and it was all because of Scorpius.

There was no doubt: Scorpius had changed her life. He was one of the only people who hadn't tried to hurt her in some way. In fact, he'd made her life worth living. Their friendship had made Rose feel good again, and she had no way to repay him for it.

It made her feel slightly helpless, the sort of blind worship she privately regarded Scorpius with. Of course, she'd never admit it to him. She wouldn't be able to face that kind of rejection. Instead, she'd have to be content with friendship, the strictly friends relationship he seemed to desire. Although there had been that time in the library...

"First years this way!" Hagrid's bellow cut through Rose's thoughts. A group of first years all scurried after Hagrid, their luggage creating tracks in the snow.

It was the last day of term. Students were filing out towards the carriages that would take them towards Hogsmede. She'd already written home to say that Malfoy would be coming home with her and she'd informed her mother of the Potions Competition Grundelwort wanted her to apply to. She'd already filled out the form and had sent it off. Now all she had to do was wait.

Scorpius held her hand as she climbed up into a carriage, before jumping up, athletically, himself. Rose stared out across the snowy grounds in order to disguise her blush.

They were fairly quiet on the journey to Hogsmede. Rose couldn't help noticing that Scorpius kept twisting his hands, a trait he tended to do when he was nervous. Without thinking, she reached out and captured his fidgeting hands in hers, smiling shyly when he looked up at her, his cheeks pink from the cold.

"Don't be nervous." She said and, feeling herself turning red again, turned back to the view, keeping her hand locked on his. She couldn't help noticing he didn't move it, and there it remained for the rest of the carriage journey.

The station was packed and it was after a great deal of swearing that Rose and Scorpius found themselves a compartment near the back of the train. Scorpius loaded both trunks up onto the luggage rack while Rose pretended to be reading a book, instead peering at him from behind the pages with interest. They settled down and Malfoy was just about to get out his exploding snap cards when the door was thrown open.

"I couldn't find you anywhere, Rosie!" Albus said, striding in and sprawling over the opposite seat. "It was almost like you didn't want to be found...SHE'S IN HERE EVERYONE!"

"What're you-" Rose began but was cut off by the arrival of James and his latest girlfriend.

"All right, Ro?" He asked, as the girl currently hanging off him got lured into conversation by Albus. James nodded to Malfoy. "You must be Scorpius!" He grinned as they shook hands.

"I am." Malfoy smiled back, bemused.

"I've heard a lot about you!" James winked before sitting down on the seat opposite, the girl perched on his lap.

"ROSIE!" Lily had arrived in the doorway of the compartment, surrounded by a posse of her girlfriends, all of whom seemed to be pointing and waving at James, much to the annoyance of the girl now sharing a seat with him. "You never told me he was so CUTE!" Lily exclaimed. Scorpius blushed a deep crimson as Lily skipped across the floor. "I'm Lily." She said, beaming. "I'm also single."

"Oi!" Albus barked. "That's enough from you!"

"Shut up!" Lily pouted. "I can flirt with whoever I like."

"Which sounds like most of the boys in the school." James piped up.

"You're one to talk!" Lily retorted. One of her friends let out a girlish giggle. "So it's alright for boys to flirt but not girls, is that it?"

"Just...reign yourself in a bit Lily..." Albus said wearily, picking up Rose's discarded book. "Besides...I think Rose would have a thing or two to say about you going out with Mr Malfoy here..." All eyes turned to Rose.

"I...er...we..." Rose spluttered, aware her face was redder than it had ever been in her life. She was saved by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Albus yelled. Hugo, looking slightly dishevelled, stumbled into the compartment, pulling his luggage.

"Bloody hell." He said, taking in the amount of people crammed into the compartment. "What's going on here?"

Albus cheered.

"Hugo m'dear!" He got up and threw his arm around his cousin. "I'd like to present to the party..." he began, in a booming, dramatic voice. "...my dear cousin, Hugo!" James started to clap. Taking his lead, Lily's friends all followed suit, shooting coy looks at him.

"What was the point in that?" Hugo asked as everyone whooped.

"Dunno..." Albus admitted. "It's a free country...and it's CHRISTMAS!" As is on cue, everyone started whooping louder, only stopping when they ran out of air.

"Albus certainly knows how to work a crowd..." Scorpius muttered to Rose.

"Yeah..." Rose agreed. "...even if he is the most irritating person to walk this Earth." She looked at Malfoy, gauging his reaction. "We can go somewhere quieter if you like..."

"No..." Scorpius said and he leant back across the upholstery. "I like it."

Rose smiled too and watched Lily bash James over the head with one of the cushions. Exactly what his crime was, she didn't know, but it was fun to see the punishment being delivered. After a while, Scorpius and Albus became involved in a murderous game of exploding snap and, by the sounds of the cuss phrases they were using to describe each other, they were getting on well. Rose was glad; she'd been worried how Malfoy would react to her family, whether he would be bowled over by their loudness. He seemed in his element, smiling and laughing with Albus. She smiled too, elated by how well everything was going.

"Hiya." The voice was feminine. Rose turned to find James' girlfriend hovering in front of the empty seat next to Rose. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"No. Not at all..." Rose shifted over a bit so that there was room for the girl.

"I'm Hannah." The girl said. She was very pretty, with light, feathery blonde hair falling to her shoulders and a splattering of freckles covering her nose. Her cheeks were warm and rosy, her complexion pale and creamy. Rose suddenly felt a bit messy.

"I'm Rose." She said, smiling as she frantically ran a hand through her tangled hair.

"I know!" Hannah smiled sweetly. "They've been yelling your name a lot. Doesn't it ever bother you?"

"Nah..." Rose shrugged. "You get used to it after a lifetime..." Hannah laughed.

"I suppose you must do. I don't have any cousins...or brothers or sisters...I'm on my own a lot."

"Oh..." Unsure how to react to this, Rose just nodded. "I see...well, I am at school. Me and Malfoy stick together but we don't go round in a big gang or anything..." Aware she was talking rubbish, Rose decided to move back onto familiar territory. "How long have you and James..." she gestured towards them both.

"Oh..." Hannah thought for a moment. "Since last Tuesday."

"Last Tuesday?" Rose raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Not very long, huh?" Hannah smiled. "Christmas will be our fist sort of _thing _together."

"Oh!" Rose smirked. "Good luck there!" Hannah frowned slightly. "Oh no!" Rose said, hastily retracting her steps. "I'm sure you'll be great together. It's just, our relatives are all batty."

"Ah!" Hannah laughed. "I see..."

James soon arrived, pulling Hannah away from Rose on the pretence that they were going to visit some friends in another compartment. Rose watched as they left, suddenly feeling a slight pressure on her right hand. She turned to see Malfoy's hand resting on hers. He was looking at her seriously, as if waiting for her to pull away. Instead, she looped her own fingers through his, smiling shyly. Malfoy suddenly grinned and turned back to Albus, although kept his fingers intertwined with Rose's.

She felt her heart elate. She was happy. Very happy. And she was going home.

**A/N – Thanks for sticking with this story! Sorry about the long update; I've been busy failing GCSEs. **

**I'm not sure about this last bit. I've just re-read it and it sounds a bit corny to me; they seems to do a lot of hand holding and smiling shyly, don't you think? Don't worry about sparing my feelings – feel free to flame if you see fit. **

**I'd like to thank all my reviewers, including sparklyshimmer2010, pretty-pink-paper, Avanell, faith123, SequesteredAnthem, xOut-For-A-Walk-BITCHx (great username by the way!), Tenshi Ookami, snowvet and my friend-in-real-life, Chazza. Your words of encouragement are great and mean a lot...my god, I am on a corniness ROLL!**

**Thanks for reading, reviews are great. **

**Ellen **


	6. The Imprint of an Enemy

_Chapter Six_

_The Imprint of an Enemy_

They were greeted at the platform by Harry and Ginny, both sporting large grins and eagerly handing out hugs and kisses. Rose, before there could be any sort of awkward exchange, grabbed Malfoy's hand and escorted him forcefully up towards her aunt and uncle.

"You must be Scorpius." Harry smiled warmly, helping him load his trunk and owl cage onto the trolley. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"You too." Scorpius replied as they shook hands. "I've heard a great deal about you."

"Then you should know already exactly how abysmal he is at Charades..." Ginny had appeared and looped her arm through her husband's. "I'm Ginny Potter." She exclaimed, extending her own arm towards Scorpius. He took it enthusiastically, smiling at her wit.

"I have to admit, I'm no great actor either..." He replied.

"Er...hello?" Rose interrupted, feeling a bit left out. "I'm Rose."

"Really?" Ginny gasped sarcastically. Harry rolled his eyes at Scorpius who smiled back. After enveloping Rose in a hug, Ginny led them towards the barrier at the end of the platform.

"So..." Rose began, pushing her trolley after her aunt. "Where are Mum and Dad?"

"They were unable to come to meet you..." Harry replied, grabbing the front of Lily's trolley before it smashed into an innocent Muggle. "...due to the fact both sets of your grandparents have arrived and are happily complaining about the state of their guestrooms."

"Oh..." Rose smiled knowingly. "I take it we're at Grimauld Place, then."

"Yes..." Harry grimaced. "I won that particular argument, although Molly is still insisting on cooking; she's driving Kreacher batty."

"Poor Kreacher..." Rose fiddled with the straps holding her bag to her trolley. She was suddenly very aware she wasn't letting Scorpius in on the conversation. "My grandmother is a psychopath..." She explained, turning to meet his gaze.

It was then that she realised how close they were.

She found herself gazing helplessly into his seemingly endless grey eyes. She could see her own face reflected in his pupils and she hastily shut her mouth, suddenly aware that it was hanging open.

"This way kids!" Ginny yelled over the general noise of the bustling station, dragging Rose out of her dazed dream.

"Better go..." Scorpius muttered, seemingly slightly dazed also.

"Yeah..." Together, they made their way out of the platform.

* * *

For what must have been the fortieth time, Molly Weasley batted Kreacher's hand out of the way. He hadn't said anything about it. Yet. But, as the frustration built up inside his little, elfin body, he very nearly screamed. But screaming would make Master unhappy and, although Master wasn't here, word would no doubt get round and Kreacher would find himself having to apologise to the overweight, bossy woman currently invading his kitchen: something he didn't want to do.

Instead, he manoeuvred himself to the left slightly, calculatingly pushing himself out of batting range while, at the same time, peeling the carrots. The overweight, bossy woman with greying hair that had once flamed bright red continued to give a running commentary to her son, Master's friend.

"We may not be at the Burrow, Ronald Weasley..." She barked, her voice painfully loud for the close range of Kreacher's bat-like ears. "...but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you all pussyfoot round me like I'm some sort of invalid!"

"Kreacher is more than capable, Mum." Ron replied, hovering nervously in the doorway. "Come and sit down in the living room. Celestina Warbeck's on the wireless..."

"I gave birth to you, Ronald Weasley!" The scary woman barked. "Do you not think I know you well enough to not know when you're trying to sweet-talk me!" With an unnecessary clang, she banged a pan down onto the countertop, spraying Kreacher with its contents. Upon seeing the look on the house-elf's face, Ron hastily grabbed a tea towel from the sink and wiped Kreacher's face with it, accidentally cramming it inside Kreacher's mouth as he did so.

"Mum..." He moaned. "...you're just making everything twenty times more complicated. Go and sit down with Dad in the living room!"

"She won't come..." Came the slightly nervous voice of Arthur Weasley as he sat hunched over The Daily Prophet, engulfed in an armchair twice his size. "...you know what she's like."

"What on Earth..." Hermione, her hair tousled and with bits of twig stuck in it, had appeared in the back door, a gnome struggling in one hand. "...is going on in here?" She slowly took in the situation, stopping to stare at her husband with his hand shoving a dirty tea towel into Kreacher's mouth.

"I am _trying _to cook soup for when the children arrive..." Mrs Weasley began, shooting her husband and son dirty looks. "...but these two seem to have a problem with that..."

"Kreacher had it all under control..." Ron explained, removing his hand from Kreacher's mouth with an apologetic shrug. "...until she stormed in here, yelling at us all." As his mother was about to protest, Hermione caught her arm, with the hand that wasn't brandishing the struggling gnome, and steered her towards the back door.

"Now Molly..." she said. "...I'm having a bit of trouble getting rid of these gnomes. I was wondering if you could help me out..." And, as the back door shut behind them, Mrs Weasley was gone from the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, mate." Ron said to Kreacher, folding the tea towel up and putting it back on the pile of dirty washing. "She's a bit..." He pulled a face. Kreacher blinked.

"Now that the mad woman is gone..." He squeaked. "...I will resume making the soup for Master's children and nieces and nephews..." Ron smiled and patted the elf on the head.

"Thanks, Kreacher."

"Anytime, Master's Red Friend, Spawn of the Mad Woman." And, as if he hadn't said anything, Kreacher continued to stir the soup, grinning privately to himself into the delicious smelling brew.

* * *

Often, Draco Malfoy wondered what life would have been like if he'd had a different name. Ron Weasley, or Harry Potter. Would he have been the same person, or was his life mapped out ahead of him, based on what he had been christened? If he changed his name now, would he become someone else? Or would he remain marked, a dirty smudge on a white piece of parchment, a drop of blood in a goblet of water? Because, that was what he was, a marked man. Marked by the past, by memories and dreams, all now screaming at him, identifying him as the culprit of all the wrongs in his life. Marked by his name, the two words: Draco Malfoy. Simple, yet condemning. A death warrant of words.

Malfoy. A curse on the bearer of such a name. A clear 'x' on their pathways of fate. Marked forever. And that was how he had lived his life. Forever Marked. Forever remembered. Forever blamed.

He was the only one left to blame. And for that, he was glad.

He opened his eyes.

The water lapped a few feet away, slowly coaxing the dead leaves away from the safety of the bank, towards the ripples in the centre where the leaves were tossed and swirled in the icy blackness, before being pulled down and drowning, resting in the watery cemetery at the sandy depths. Like Astoria. Like his Astoria.

She was dead as soon as she'd met him. He knew that now. She had fallen in love with a marked man. Married him. Assumed his name. And through that, marked herself. She was dead as soon as he laid eyes on her, as soon as they shared that lingering glance in the reflection of the shop window. She was dead as soon as his marked lips had touched her, as soon as he allowed himself to be foolish enough to contaminate her with something of his own. A child. Something so wonderful, yet so dangerous. Something to live for, something to die for.

Astoria had loved the boy. As had he, before he realised what it was. Before she had died. Astoria loved the boy in a different way, though. She had loved him more than life itself. He'd seen it in the way she laughed when the boy fiddled with her hair, or in the way her eyes filled with tears of joy as she threw him in the air and caught him again. Gently, though. Always gentle around the boy.

Then there was the day that life had caught up with him. He had always felt during those precious few years with Astoria, that life was waiting, biding its time. And he had been right. Love had killed his wife. As she had spent the last few days of her life, choking down bitter medicines, it had not been the poison of the water, or the freezing temperatures that had killed her. It had been love. Her love for the boy. The boy that was half him, half marked. A Malfoy by blood.

And that, thought Malfoy, was what it all boiled down to.

* * *

"They're here!"

It was Victoire that noticed them first. She'd been straightening out the photographs on top of the piano in the dining room as she was dusting, under the close scrutiny of her grandmother, and had glanced casually through the net curtains. In a line, towing large trunks on wheels, were seven adolescent figures, escorted by a woman with flaming red hair and a man with messy black hair and round glasses bringing up the rear.

"Where?" Victoire found herself jostled by the considerable weight of her grandmother as she struggled to see out of the window. "There they are! My, doesn't Albus look tall...James needs new robes, they're several inches too short...and that must be his girlfriend. She's a bit funny-looking, isn't she?"

"She looks very pretty to me, Grandma."

"Mmm...Lily's hair looks nice, although it does need cutting. There's Hugo. What _can_ he have in that trunk?"

"Drugs." Victoire grinned and then, seeing the look on her grandmother's face, patted her on the shoulder patronisingly. "It was a _joke, _Grandma."

"Oh." Mrs Weasley frowned and turned back to the window. "Well I don't get it. And there's Rose. Doesn't she look lovely? Wait a minute...who's that young man?"

Victoire followed her grandmother's gaze out of the window, towards a tall, blonde haired young man fiddling with the catch on his trunk.

"I don't know..." She murmured, looking him up and down. "...but he's cute."

"Miss Victoire Weasley!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "May I remind you of a certain Mr Teddy Lupin!"

"What?" Victoire asked. "It's not like I'm cheating on him or anything. I just said he's cute..."

"Youth today..." Mrs Weasley muttered, before rushing downstairs to greet her grandchildren.

They were piling through the door as she arrived on the landing, panting from the exertion, Victoire's feet hammering on the stairs closely behind her.

"Hello, my lovelies!" She exclaimed, nearly falling down the last flight of stairs. "Merry Christmas!"

James steadied her on her feet and she engulfed him in a hug that very nearly cut off his air supply. Rose waved at Victoire, who was trying to budge past her grandmother on the stairway.

"Hey, Victoire!"

"Hey, Rose!" Victoire nodded to Scorpius. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Malfoy." Rose said, as he raised a hand in greeting.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi, yourself." Victoire grinned back. Rose cursed her cousin's DNA being part Fleur Delacore who was herself in turn, part Veela.

"Let's move..." She whispered to Malfoy, who was still staring a Victoire, looking slightly dazed. With a very persuasive tug of his hand, she led him out of the crowded hallway and into the living room.

It was then that she was ambushed by her mother.

"Rosie!" Kisses and hugs seemed to erupt around her and she shut her eyes against the torrent. "...and this must be Scorpius." Before she could stop her, Hermione had cupped Scorpius' face with her hand and planted a kiss on both of his cheeks. "Merry Christmas, Scorpius." She exclaimed once she had released him, beaming.

"Let the man breathe, Hermione." Her Dad had materialised next to her, extending a jumper-clad arm around her shoulders. Rose didn't think she'd ever been more pleased to see him.

"Dad!" She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, squeezing him slightly as she hugged him. He smelt musky, of Butterbeer, wool and home.

"This is Malfoy..." She said. And that was when, for Ronald Weasley, time seemed to stop.

Standing in front of him, was Draco Malfoy. He was there, in the pallor of the boy's skin, in the boy's skinny build, in the arch of his cheekbones and the structure of his face, giving him a slightly fragile, noble look. Yet, at the same time, there was no Malfoy. The boy's eyes were a warm grey his mouth and nose slightly lopsided in an expression of permanent amusement. He was not Malfoy yet, in many ways he was.

"Good to have you here." Ron said, extending an arm and shaking the boy's hand. The boy smiled properly and Malfoy was gone, banished to the very corners of Ron's memory. Ron smiled too and released the boy's hand, letting his own fall to his side. His fingers felt warm. "There's soup in the kitchen."

"Sounds good." Rose said. His Rose. He glanced towards Scorpius and saw that he too had been looking at his daughter. He didn't blame him. While not particularly neat, his daughter was a beauty: something both rejoiced in and feared by fathers.

Still smiling, although a little sadly, Ron ushered them all into the kitchen. He was losing his daughter. To a _Malfoy. _

**

* * *

**

A/N – First of all, sorry for the long gap in updates; I've been in Belgium. Also, it's set at Christmas and, having just broken up for the Summer Holidays, I'm not really in a particularly Xmassy mood. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Flames, criticism etc. is always appreciated.

**You may have noticed I've found out how to put lines in. I like the lines. **

**Thanks for reading. Reviews are great. **

**Ellen **


End file.
